Feeling What is Real
by Jetmir
Summary: Draco is everything George has ever wanted. But can Draco ever truly feel love in such a pain filled world? Tragedy, pain and love. Slash. Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
1. Acceptance

Feelings. Lust, love, compassion, self hatred. They all got caught up in his throat, choking him. Who was he? He had lost sight of everything he had once wanted. And now he was sinking.

George Weasley had hidden his feelings, buried them for so long. He had never embraced them, he had never wanted to. He was afraid. So he buried the truth under six feet of jokes and facades. Even Fred didn't know. Keeping a secret from his best friend and his brother was a burden. It weighed down his heart but he had to keep it under lock and key. For he didn't know if Fred would accept him for who he was. Gay.

Fred's dark eyes scanned the party. "Over there" he nudged George who looked up from his drink.

"Who?" George asked with interest swilling the fire whiskey around in his mouth. It tasted bitter, burning his throat like poison. He didn't want to be in the Room of Requirement. He didn't want to be at a party full of beautiful, distracting boys. All the swinging hips, bright eyes, open collar shirts. He wanted to go back to his bed and just not think.

"The blonde" Fred jerked his head over to the corner. George's eyes flickered over a slender, blond boy but he knew that Fred was referring to the girl next to him.

"Nah I think she's Slytherin" George said setting his glass down "Let's just go back to the common room".

"I bet she's got a friend for you" Fred winked standing up and ignoring his brother. George watched him cross the room, tall, confident. He fit so perfectly in his own skin. He knew who he was and George found himself envying his twin. He swung his legs out, dropped off the stool and hit the floor, stumbling slightly.

He was drunk and that was never a good sign. As always he followed Fred. He didn't know what else to do. Whatever his brother did he did. They were inseparable, they were soul mates.

George pushed back his mop of sweaty hair. Maybe he should just tell Fred. He would understand. He loved George.

But the slim element of risk was too much. Even if George unlocked his secret and felt free it wouldn't matter if he didn't have Fred by his side. Self doubt shadowed the corners of his mind. His head felt too heavy for his neck, multicoloured spots dancing across his vision.

Fred had trapped the pretty little blonde in the corner, his hands splayed against the wall, either side of her petite frame. George made his way across the room. His shoulder hit off another boy's.

"Watch it!" a familiar voice snarled.

George turned, his eyes clouded with drink. Draco Malfoy glared at him, blonde hair ruffled, his lip curled. In this state George could see how beautiful Draco looked; almost ethereal. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, his hair white gold, his eyes rings of silver.

"Sorry mate" George slurred. He could feel his arms reaching forwards clinging to Draco. The younger boy shook him off, disgust etching his face.

"Get off!" With one last scathing look Malfoy vanished leaving George standing alone, feeling very forlorn.

"Hey George!" Fred called. He spun around, his eyes latching onto his brother's.

"Hannah here has a friend. Meet Becky".

Fred grinned as if he was doing George a favour. George swallowed loudly. He felt sick. He could tell Becky was pretty; tall and long limbed with dark curls but she wasn't his type. None of these girls were. He spun around, desperate to escape. He could feel the light sheen of sweat sticking his shirt to his back, the thrumming of his heart beat loud in his ears.

He had to get out.

He elbowed his way through the crowd, nausea rolling in the pit of his stomach. When he spilled out of the doors and into the corridor he punched the wall. He was breathing hard, his mouth sour. He sank to the floor and hung his head in his hands panting. Blood blossomed along his knuckles, stinging.

He could hear footsteps, a sharp intake of breath but he didn't look up. He knew who it was. He could recognise his twin from a mile away. Even by the light tread of his feet on stone, the audible swallow as he assessed the situation. He felt Fred slide down next to him, a heavy arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him close.

Fred was the only thing that was keeping him together. He was broken but his brother was gathering the fragments. Soon Fred would piece him back together again and he would be happy.

"Becky wasn't your type then?" Fred asked.

George let out a light chuckle, feeling pressure slide from his shoulders. "No" his voice cracked.

"Who is?" Fred's voice was curious.  
>George looked up, his eyes meeting his brother's.<p>

Understanding passed between them and Fred's lips parted in surprise. "Oh!" he breathed.

George buried his face in his hands. He couldn't swallow around the fear residing in his throat. What if Fred was repulsed? What would happen then? George didn't think that he could exist without Fred.

"You're gay" Fred said.  
>It wasn't a question.<p>

"Yes" George muttered. Another weight lifted from his chest. Another rope binding him to a lie was cut.

"I know that already you daft idiot!"  
>George looked up disbelieving.<p>

"You did?" His voice sounded vulnerable even to his own ears. He winced.

"Of course. You're my best friend. You're my soul mate. You didn't think I would care if you're straight or not did you?"

George shrugged whilst Fred looked visibly hurt "I would never let you down George. Where would I be without you?  
>Besides statistically there was bound to be a gay Weasley. Ron thinks it's Charlie. He might be right come to think of it. He never has had a proper girlfriend" Fred trailed off suggestively and George found himself shakily laughing once more.<p>

He had never felt better, now that he was released from the fear and the guilt. Keeping a secret from Fred had been far worse than facing the truth. He was gay and it didn't matter. Now everything didn't seem half as bad.

"We just need to get you a boyfriend now" Fred winked with a cheeky grin.


	2. Pushing aside the Banter

George arched his back and opened his eyes blinking. His mouth was pressed to the ground and he could taste stone on his lips. As he stumbled to his feet his face split into an unwilling grin. He had been sleeping in the Transfiguration courtyard and beside him had been a sixth year Ravenclaw boy.

Glancing down his eyes roamed over the boy's defined stomach, the corded muscles running up his arms. He bit back another grin and looked around for his shirt. He finally found it, crumpled and carelessly tossed under a bench.

Oh yes. It had been a_ very_ good night indeed.

He stumbled into the entrance hall his fingers slipping over the shirt buttons. It was still early morning, fatigue clinging to his limbs. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he glanced down the shadowed corridors.

Muffled footsteps faded away and he shrugged off his uneasiness. It was probably just Filch. With another contented smile George headed for the Grand staircase thrusting his hands into his pocket. He turned the corridor and found himself drawing to a halt. A boy sat alone, his arms encircling his knees, eyes burning a hole in the tapestry. George faltered uneasily. It was Draco Malfoy.

He planned to take a secret passage, to slip away undetected but Malfoy spoke before he had the chance.

"What do you want Weasley? Money to pay for your mother's liposuction?" he sneered.

George glowered feeling anger blossom in his chest, unfurling its petals like a fiery flower. "Shut up Malfoy" he snapped pacing forwards.

Malfoy looked up lazily, his light hair dishevelled, blue shadows leaping across his cheekbones. His eyelashes were light gold; the colour of pollen, George thought disarmed. Malfoy's eyes met his; bright, untarnished silver like two sickles.

George stood stunned. Why had he never noticed how beautiful Malfoy's eyes were? The thought sickened him and he bit his lip in surprise. He could taste blood on his tongue as he made to turn away. Yet Malfoy's face held him captivated. He let his eyes roam over the hollow of his throat, his high cheekbones, and the tumbling silvery hair. He looked like a painted angel and George had always been appreciative of fine art.

Yet oddly he could feel Draco's charcoal eyes trace his own face, his rumpled bright hair, his tensed body.

And with the brush of a cat against George's leg the spell was broken. He leapt away cursing as Mrs Norris looked up at him with accusing eyes, her bushy tail winding around his ankle. Draco paled and stood up.

"Leave me alone blood traitor" he spat pushing past George.

He was left alone in the deserted corridor, his muscles tight with tension. What had just happened?

It had felt like some sort of spark, flying between them, electrifying, searing his insides. He didn't know if he had relished it or loathed it.

He exhaled running his hands through his hair. Harrowing thoughts were beginning to bury into his brain. Did he like Malfoy because he was a bad person? What would Fred think?

After all Fred was the one person George could never bring himself to disappoint or hurt. They were more than brothers, more than best friends. Fred was George's guardian angel. He looked after his twin brother and protected him from the world. They could hide behind jokes and cheerful facades but they were still only human. They felt fear, shame and worry as much as any other boy.

He trailed up to the Common room and stared disbelievingly. The Gryffindors lay entangled together. Girls held tenderly in male arms, bottles strewing the floor. George began to feel shame colouring his cheeks. He felt dirty. Not for being gay. But for hiding it. He had slept under the rain curled up in a strangers arms. He should have been amongst his friends nursing a hangover. They should know, he thought fiercely.

But first he had to find Fred. He carefully manoeuvred around the mesh of Gryffindors. Ron's arms were wrapped around that blonde girl; Lavender. George resisted the urge to play a trick on him. These things were better when done with his twin brother.

He rushed up the stairs and into the dormitory. A few, prone figures lay slumped across their beds snoring. Fred was curled up next to Angelina, bare-chested. George grinned widely and headed over to his trunk. He pulled out a fresh shirt and changed. His brother looked so angelic; fiery hair ruffled, jaw slack. He was overwhelmed with a rush of fierce love. Fred always looked vulnerable when asleep.

Fred stirred, his brown eyes fluttering open and meeting with George's. He grinned sleepily and carefully stood up rolling Angelina to the side. She mumbled but did not wake. Fred yawned and arched his back.

"Good night?" George asked with a chuckle.  
>Fred blushed.<p>

"Never mind me. What about you?"

"Excellent night" George confirmed. Fred raised his eyebrows wickedly and George nudged him in the ribs.

His grin faded as he pushed aside the banter. He still wanted to tell the rest of his family and he ached to tell his friends. Fred didn't need to ask. He _knew_. Just like he always did.

"Mum will be delighted. She'll be able to tell us apart now. You're the one she can drool after Lockheart with" Fred grinned.

George looked up with mock hurt "Fred! I have taste!"

"Are you accusing Mum of having no taste?"

"Well she ended up with Dad" George trailed off. They looked each other in the eyes and started to laugh.

Everything would be ok with Fred by his side. The Weasley twins were unstoppable.


	3. Melting the frost

It had been easy to tell the truth. Fred had called a meeting; Ron, Ginny, Harry and just in case things got ugly; Hermione.

George walked into the Common Room that night with anxious eyes.  
>His half circle of friends and family stared at him expectantly.<br>"What's wrong? You sick?" Ron demanded brutishly.  
>George peered at him nervously. <em>I hope not.<br>_  
>The warmth from the crackling fire sent chills down George's bones and he shivered. He glanced at the window verifying escape routes. For some absurd reason the smudges against the glass reminded him of a pair of bright, silver eyes.<br>He chastised himself with a mental head shake.  
>Why had his thoughts strayed in that direction?<br>The truth was desire.  
>And it haunted him.<p>

He swallowed and turned to his friends. He clasped his hands together and paled. He felt sick again; nausea spreading along the pit of his stomach like hot wax.  
>His eyes met Fred's and he managed to smile. If he addressed Fred and only Fred this was easy.<p>

"I'm not sick. I'm fine. The truth is I wanted to...I_ needed_ to tell you guys. I'm gay" his voice broke and he dragged his eyes away from Fred's.  
>Reluctantly he watched them. Harry looked mildly shocked, Ron was white, Ginny offered an encouraging smile and Hermione's eyes were shrewd.<br>Had she guessed?

The silence dragged on pinching his skin. He could scarcely breath as he sought approval, acceptance.

"I always thought you were better dressed than Fred" Ginny chirped.

"Oi" Fred said but his eyes danced. He turned to George and beamed as Harry and Hermione giggled.  
>George managed a weak smile but he studied Ron quietly as his younger brother's face purpled.<p>

"Ron?" he said his voice cracked and anxious.

"I just...ok" Ron managed.

"OK?"

"Ok. I guess I don't...it doesn't matter. As long as you don't fancy Malfoy".

The others hooted with laughter but George felt his smile flicker and fade. He hoped Fred didn't notice as he turned to the window. He pressed his face against the pane and stared at the silvery smudges marking the glass. It was a nice colour. Pretty.  
>He hugged himself as he contemplated his...situation.<br>He fancied Malfoy; that much was clear.  
>The idea that he did was contemptible. How could he? Malfoy was a rat. There was no hidden depths to that shallow bastard.<p>

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned and grinned.  
>He knew it was Fred; of course he did. He recognized the weight of his twin's hand, the pressure he applied. It was a small comfort but it was enough.<p>

"Alright?"

"Yeah. I'm perfect".

"Of course you are. You look like me" Fred grinned.  
>The smile George returned was real enough. The feelings inside however were tangled like a ball of wires. He needed to get outside. The walls of the Gryffindor Common room were no longer a proud scarlet, they were a blood red.<p>

Unnerved he turned to Fred "I think I need to get outside. Have a walk, have a think".  
>Fred just nodded.<p>

As George walked out he heard Fred bat away the other's questions.  
>"Of course he's ok. I reckon he's just off to meet his secret boyfriend".<p>

He smiled to himself biting the inside of his cheek. He headed down to the Entrance Hall and slipped out of the wide oak doors. Most students were squirreled away in their Common Rooms and the grounds were quiet.  
>Frost glistened on the grass in wide sheets. It was kind of beautiful, George thought wryly.<p>

The night air was cold on his lips like a kiss. He ruffled his bright hair with his hand and squinted through the darkness. He wasn't alone.  
>A shockingly familiar boy sat hunched over, his arms looped around his knees.<br>George wondered if the wet grass was soaking through his jeans and at the thought he blushed.

He wondered if he should keep walking but instead he sat down next to Malfoy.

He didn't know why he did it. Suddenly his skin was hypersensitive and the frost bit through his own jeans.  
>Malfoy didn't turn to him. He took a deep breath and said "Weasley".<p>

"Malfoy" George whispered.  
>His cheeks flared red. The name sounded intimate on his tongue. Draco stiffened and not in an encouraging way.<p>

"What do you want from me?" Malfoy's voice was blurred.  
><em>Hang on<em>, was he crying?

"Are you...alright?" George asked and he pressed his shoulder into Malfoy's.

The boy leaned into him slightly and George held his breath when Draco Malfoy's large, silvery eyes met his. They were beautiful and George felt a shiver pass through him. He didn't want to speak. He barely wanted to move. He watched Draco's eyes-as bright as moonlight flicker to his lips.  
>He yearned to kiss Draco and he knew in that moment the feeling was mutual.<p>

But he was frozen. His muscles were taut, his heart thumping, his eyes wide. He felt inexperienced. For all the girls and boys he had kissed nothing could prepare him for this moment.  
>He knew if he messed it up, if Malfoy pushed him away he would want the ground to swallow him up.<p>

Draco leant into him more, his breath tickling George's face. He looked completely lost, shadows curving along his cheekbones, his eyes almost frightened.

George's fingers curved around the side of Draco's face and he grinned softly when the other boy took a deep, shaky breath.  
>He then pressed his lips against Draco's.<p>

The moment was bitter sweet. The night air blew their hair around and they moved closer to share their heat. Draco tasted of honey and cinnamon and George wrapped his arms around him. To his private delight Draco shivered at their contact.  
>He drew back, eyed the beautiful boy and kissed him again, more roughly. This time there was fire as they pressed their chests together. Fire and heat and George's heartbeat thumped painfully in his chest. He had never wanted someone like this. Someone so spicy and unintentionally seductive and mysterious. And Draco wanted him back. He could feel him quivering under his touch.<br>He pulled away gently and took a deep, careful breath.

"Don't stop" Draco muttered.  
>George's heart gave a painful twist as he leant in again and sated Draco's hunger. This time the other boy wound his hands in George's bright, tousled hair. He softly bit George's lip pulling it with his teeth and George moaned roughly.<p>

It was almost too much to bear. This heat, the smell of spice and aftershave-a thousand times hotter than any perfume. George trailed kisses down Draco's throat, nibbling and sucking at the sweet skin. He wanted to leave bruises.  
>He wanted to leave his mark on Draco Malfoy.<p>

And then the magic ended. A cloud slid over the moon shielding its glow.  
>Beneath the night sky two boys separated. Draco pushed George back, feral, snarling.<br>"What the hell do you think you are doing?"  
>George recoiled. He felt dirty, ashamed. Draco's eyes refused to meet his. Instead he stared up at the castle's twinkling windows.<br>"I hope no one saw that" he spat.

George stared at him. It had all happened too fast. One moment they had been caught up in each other's arms. The next he had been thrown aside, discarded, abandoned.

"You're sick" Draco scowled and he turned on his heel and strode away; a visible ball of crackling energy, confusion and anger.  
>George fell back on the grass and pressed his face against the frost. It stung his cheek.<br>What had he expected?  
>Malfoy to announce his desire for George?<br>Flowers?  
>It was hopeless. But at least something had been established. Something that made George smile.<br>Draco Malfoy liked boys. 

**A/N : I finally got around to updating! Please review and tell me what you think! If you do I might remember to update faster! **


	4. The Same

A shaft of wintery sunlight fell across George's face colouring his shut eyelids a blood red. He moaned and pressed his mouth against the pillow. He remembered exactly what it had been doing last night and felt heat flood to his cheeks. He buried deeper under his duvet into a safe cocoon of warmth and thought about Malfoy.  
>'<em>You're sick'. <em>  
>That's what Malfoy had snarled. It had stung George like a slap across the face. Yet he couldn't <em>not <em>think about Draco.  
>He had never met anyone; male or female so alluring. His eyes the precise shade of silver sickles, his hair curling at the nape of his neck, his bottom lip caught between perfect teeth.<br>George wanted the image of Draco branded on the back of his eyelids so he would dream of the Slytherin boy forever.

He wondered lazily what the other boy was doing now. Was he too curled up in bed? George's heart thumped painfully against his ribcage at the thought of Draco nestled under the duvet thinking about _him_.  
>He hoped fervently that he had made a lasting impression. He wanted Draco to seek him out, to be possessed by an animal urge to fiercely kiss him.<br>George smiled to himself preparing to indulge in a similarly themed daydream however the duvet cover was yanked back and he winced at the sudden onslaught of light. He looked blearily up at his twin who stood grinning from ear to ear.

"Morning brother dearest" Fred chuckled. "Good night last night? You came in late and your jeans"-  
>Fred brandished George's abandoned jeans "are covered in grass stains".<p>

"Oh well done. You should join the Auror office with those detective skills" George said mildly struggling to sit up. He snatched his jeans back, rolled them up and threw them under the bed.  
>Fred raised an eyebrow "Well?"<p>

"Well what?"

"How was he?"

George fixed a devilish grin on his face "Fred, you really have to more specific. Remember I have no inhibitions and few morals".

"Slut" Fred quipped, nudging George in the ribs.

George twisted away "Nah, just free spirited".

Fred laughed, "Come on then. Get dressed. The day's wasting and maybe your mysterious boyfriend will declare his love for you at breakfast".

George swung his legs out of bed and dressed swiftly pulling a green sweater on. He followed his twin down to the Great Hall pale faced and yawning.  
>The truth was he wasn't a slut. He had many inhibitions; namely a lack of self confidence and his morals were strangely extensive. How could he be a slut when he pined after only one boy?<p>

They joined Angelina and Alicia at the breakfast table. The sky stretched across the ceiling; overcast and flinty grey. George thought of a pair of stormy eyes and felt his appetite vanish. He stared down at his hands gripping the edges of the table. Splinters dug into his palms and he was acutely aware of the other student's gazes.  
>The silence was heavy and oppressive crushing his lungs.<br>So they all knew then.  
>They all knew that he was gay.<p>

The whispers started within seconds; a torrent of hisses. It sounded like a seething sea; the waves slapping off George's ears.  
>'<em>Gay<em>'  
>'The one in green'<br>'He likes _boys_'  
>'<em>Queer<em>'.  
>"That's a bit out of hand" Fred remarked loudly and the whispers swelled then stopped.<br>George smiled weakly at his brother. He had been so concerned about telling the truth to his friends he hadn't anticipated the other student's reactions.

He dared to lift his gaze and glance around the hall. The Gryffindors; a mass of friendly faces. The Hufflepuffs; open mouthed spectators. The Ravenclaws; a mixed bag. The Slytherins; disgust, distaste, sour faced outrage. George's eyes searched along the table but Malfoy was absent.

He stood up suddenly "I have to...I need to..."  
>Fred's eyes dark with concern met his "Go". He clasped his brother's shoulder in an attempt to draw strength from him then stumbled from the hall. His legs felt like bags of water; his bones like sponges. He tripped across the entrance hall and up the stairs clutching the banister with sweaty fingers.<p>

He couldn't separate fact from fiction out in the dim hall. Had everyone glared balefully at him or was it just the Slytherins? He couldn't seem to remember; he had been unable to pick out individual faces from the crowd. Apart from Fred's.  
>Fred had always expressed his feelings well. He wore them across his face in a hardened, fierce mask. One that threatened harm to anyone who hurt George.<br>That thought warmed George slightly numbing the panic in his chest. He still had Fred to protect him.

He reached the third floor corridor and drew to a halt. Lounging across the entrance of a cleaning cupboard was Draco Malfoy. He was entertaining Pansy Parkinson; the sour faced _cow_. His hands were planted on the small of her back, his neck inclined as he kissed her. Her fingers were wound through his silken, white gold hair. George felt like a fist had been slammed into his gut. That Slytherin slut hadn't even given him twenty-four hours to gain a sense of closure.  
>He intended to stalk past. He didn't want to think about what Pansy and Draco had done in the cupboard.<br>But hot betrayal forced the words up his throat "You can't hide in the closet forever Malfoy".

His eyes slid across to Draco's. He shoved Pansy roughly aside and glared at George. His mouth tightened into a hard line, his eyes shards of ice.  
>George's head lowered of its own accord. He couldn't bear that Draco looked at him with such undeniable hatred and revulsion.<p>

When he rounded the corridor, out of sight he felt like he could breathe again. The iron shackles that had been crushing his lungs disappeared and he inhaled dizzily falling against a tapestry.  
>"Bastard" he muttered sinking to the ground. He leaned against the wall so hard he could feel his spine ache.<br>"Slytherin bastard" he said again because it made him feel marginally better. He shut his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. _One two three four._

He heard footsteps and ragged breathing slice through the silence. _One two three four._  
>"Weasley" he heard the hiss. <em>One two three four.<em>  
>"Will you bloody look at me?" <em>One two three four.<em> Surely one look couldn't hurt?  
>He opened one eye and found that indeed one look did hurt.<br>Draco was glowering down at him, his light eyelashes brushing angular cheekbones. Shadows coloured the skin under his eyes blue; vivid bruises. George stared back defiantly.  
>"Yes dear?" he asked sweetly, his voice laced with an undercurrent of hurt.<p>

"I'm not...I'm not _gay_" Malfoy hissed.  
>George gave Draco a long, measured look. Who was he trying to fool? Himself?<br>"I'm _not_" he snapped again but uncertainty made his voice falter.

George sighed and stood up unpeeling himself from the tapestry. Face to face with Draco he felt oddly confident and sure of himself. Perhaps his subconscious was reacting to Draco's confusion or maybe it was because things between them couldn't get much worse. He stood as close to Draco as the other boy would allow. He didn't want to push him further away. As it was they were already standing an arm's length apart.

"I'm gay" George said and he took a discrete step forwards. He could see that Malfoy's pupils had swallowed up his irises; only a thin ring of silver surrounded the wide pool of chaotic black.  
>"I always have been. I just hadn't noticed. Or maybe I had and I didn't want to notice" he took another step forwards. Draco stared at him in abject fear, all anger absolved.<br>"If you liked boys I could do this" George carefully kissed Draco's cheek putting as much sweetness as he dared into it. The scent of the other boy; black pepper and cinnamon was intoxicating.  
>"I could do this" he placed his hands on Draco's hips and let them slide to the small of his back. He ran them upwards feeling the hard, angular shoulder blades and the contours of taut muscles. Draco exhaled loudly.<br>"Or I could do this". Heart hammering George kissed Draco's neck moving across his throat and along his fragile collarbone. Draco gave a perceptible shiver his hands reaching up to trap George's hips.

Even though Draco's touch was as hot as fire George detached himself carefully stepping back.  
>"Oh no. I can't do those things however. Because I'm gay and you're not. We're different" he shook his head sadly watching Draco from under lowered lashes.<p>

Draco stumbled forwards, his breathing harsh as he closed the distance between them.  
>"We're the same" he whispered roughly as he lifted a hand to lightly touch George's cheekbone.<p>

"We're the same" George repeated in wonder as he pressed his lips lightly to Draco's. The moment was so bittersweet; the pain running alongside the desire and the hot throbbing ache to share everything with this tormented, beautiful boy.  
>At that moment Draco meant more to him than the blood in his veins. For surely he was betraying it whilst kissing a Malfoy.<br>Draco's lips parted and their tongues met; tentatively at first. George dragged his thumb across Draco's cheekbones; they were so angular, so perfectly sculpted.

He wondered how Draco would respond to the feel of stubble, the scent of spicy, light aftershave opposed to heavy, rotten perfume. He seemed to be reacting ok.

Draco lightly pressed George into the wall, their hearts beating together; fast and unbearably loud. George could hardly catch his breath. He was afraid; afraid of startling Draco, of sending him running.

Distantly they heard the bell ring; muted by their own ragged breathing, their erratic pulses, and the blood rushing in their ears. Carefully Draco disentangled himself and stood back. George stared at him warily, waiting for his reaction; waiting for the revulsion and snarling denial to resurface.

Instead Draco shouldered his bag, gave George a long look and said "I'll see you soon". He pressed his lips briefly to George's, melting his insides then walked away. Already his absence punctured holes in George's lungs. But he was unbelievably grateful that there would be a next time. Hope flowered in his chest ensnaring his heart with glee.  
>'<em>We're the same'<em>.  
>Whistling merrily George headed off to Herbology, head spinning.<p> 


	5. Scattered Snow

"George! Over here!" came an all-too familiar voice; it was his own voice, his heartbeat. Fred.  
>He looked at his brother with a sheepish smile. Fred waved at him from down the Gryffindor table, his brown eyes intent "Come here! Sit down!"<br>George took a deep breath and managed a weak smile, shaking his head. No.  
>"Sorry" he yelled back, his voice catching in his chest "I have to go"! He turned on his heel and left the hall feeling Fred's bewildered stare blister the back of his neck. After all he had only just appeared for breakfast and within seconds he was leaving. Guilt ate away at his insides as he slipped out of the great oak doors.<br>He tried to convince himself that he wasn't choosing Draco over Fred. He would never make that sacrifice. He wouldn't have to. He just had to find that balance; he sucked in a deep breath.  
><em>That balance<em> had been eluding him.

George hiked his jacket collar up around his jaw. As he breathed out, great, frosty plumes were expelled like silvery smoke. A thin blanket of snow carpeted the grass and his boots crunched as he walked towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Draco Malfoy leant against a tree, a grey scarf wrapped around his throat. George still couldn't believe that he could now call this shard of perfection '_mine_'.  
>For three weeks they had played a dangerous game; hiding, secrecy and guilt. Yet George had been caught up in it, twisted in this cocoon of Draco Malfoy; his ashen silver eyes, his bitten lips, his translucent skin and tangled hair. It was like he was trapped in a dream and there was no time to think, to breathe.<p>

"Good morning" Draco said with a small smirk. He was always irritatingly early. He leant forward and kissed George's jaw. When he drew back they breathed silvery clouds at each other's lips. The desire was there, like an incessant throbbing in their veins.  
>"Let's go" George said gruffly. He was the first to draw back, to stomp into the trees. He was trying to salvage some pride, some identity. But the sting of Draco's kiss was a definite obstacle to his plan.<p>

He could feel the other boy's hand brush his and his fingertips tingled. Every day they met; in the forest, in the Room of Requirement, in secret passages and tunnels, behind tapestries. Some days they just talked. They would talk for hours until they had stripped away all the lies and masks. What was left was skin and flesh and bone; Draco and George.  
>A Malfoy and a Weasley. How could they find similarities?<br>George wanted to scoff at the thought.

But it was true; they were both breakable. They weren't infallible; they weren't comfortable in their own skin.  
>One day Draco had whispered with foul loathing "Sometimes I hate myself. I want to rip out my genes".<br>George had stared, captivated in a sickening way by the tiny, crystal tears at the end of Draco's jagged eyelashes. And it hurt that he couldn't change the world for Draco.  
>And he could do nothing more than press his shoulder against the other boy's and let their heartbeats match.<p>

Those days were painfully, bitter sweet. Other days Draco was different; _enigmatic, dynamic, arrogant._ He was an operator; moving with slick confidence under his skin. It was surely an act; a hardened, brassy facade but it set George into turmoil.  
>Where was the shivering angel-faced boy who laid down his heart, his thoughts? He had been replaced by a cold exterior, a shell, a block of confidence.<p>

Not that this transformation was all bad. George bit back a smile; there were benefits. Draco tended to be more forceful when like this. He would press George against walls and trees, whispering liquid, _dirty _sentiments in his ear, attacking his neck and jaw line with fiery kisses. The shame of being gay was the last thing on his mind then.  
>George's cheeks flamed hot as he thought about these encounters.<br>About Draco trapping him against the wall with his hips, eyes hot with lust and desire.

He shook his head ruefully bringing himself back to the present, hyper-aware of Draco walking beside him.

This was the difference between Draco and a girl. This felt right. They fell into place beside each other; mirroring their paces as they loped through the trees. The last girl George had taken on a walk (set up with the best intentions by Fred) had tripped and flailed, several paces behind him.

He slowed as they came to their clearing; one that nobody but Fred knew about. _Fred._  
>George felt a pang as he steered his mind away from his brother. He sank down on a log and felt Draco sit beside him. The tips of their boots touched as they turned to face each other. The snow was only scattered here like icing sugar and plants had pushed their way up through the frozen earth.<p>

George eyed Draco warily; he was unpredictable, his face expressionless.  
>"Alright?" George croaked and Draco nodded soundlessly.<br>He could see that Draco was drinking in his face, his body. He was tracing the curve of his lips, the coffee colour of his brown eyes, and the slope of his shoulders.  
>George took a deep, steadying breath, silent under Draco's examination. When Draco leant back satisfied George smiled anxiously. It was a taut moment. George had been getting doubts, insecurities.<br>Did he measure up to Draco?

Draco with his sordid history of beautiful girlfriends, Draco with his arrogance and his cold beauty.  
>Was it all a game to Draco?<br>An experiment, testing out boys, George; a ready target?  
>As Draco leant in and kissed him, George's eyes flew shut. He hoped not. He hoped he meant more to him. Already Draco meant something to him, something dear and painful. Like an arrow to his heart Draco was his Achilles Heel; his weakness, his slice of temptation.<p>

The kiss deepened and George's hand curved along Draco's jaw, brushing light stubble. They pressed closer together as they shared their body warmth, the heat echoing under their skin.  
>When they broke apart George pressed his head to Draco's and shut his eyes. If he could just hold onto this feeling-the cold around them, the heat between them; a gentle, flickering flame.<p>

Then it shattered into a thousand pieces as Draco pulled back so sharply George fell forwards. He slithered off the log onto the snow, the cold piercing his legs. He looked overhead at the branches framing the grey sky as snow began to fall, biting his cheeks.

"What the hell?" thundered an all-too familiar voice; it was his own voice, his own heartbeat. _Fred._


	6. Learn to be happy

Draco wasn't speaking to George. It had been two weeks since they were discovered out in the snow. Fred had left the hall, desperate to find George, to seek out his elusive brother. What he had found left Fred stone-faced and cold-hearted.  
>George had burned up at the look on Fred's face. He had wanted to melt like the snow into the ground. Fred had been <em>disgusted<em>.  
>And Draco-he had been worse.<p>

"Stay away from me, you faggot" he had snarled leaping to his feet, his grey eyes slicing into George's.  
>George flinched away from the word, the cold from the snow seeping under his skin, chilling his bones. Malfoy thought he was sick, Malfoy called him a <em>faggot.<em>  
>George felt a desperate pang, a twist of his guts and he must have shown it because Fred swept past him furious.<p>

George had looked up at a strangled yell that shook the trees. Fred had pinned Draco to a tree trunk by his throat, his hand crushing his windpipe. Draco's face was reddening as he tried to twist away, his silver eyes slanted and unbelievably bright.  
>"Fred, stop" George had croaked "You're going to kill him".<br>Draco and Fred both looked at him with startled expressions. Draco had probably thought he would join in, throttle the bastard until he fell stone dead into the snow. Fred was on the same wavelength.

Snow stuck to George's cheeks as he watched Fred fling Draco to the ground. "Don't you come near my brother again" he threatened; his voice harsh as he panted.  
>Draco had leapt to his feet, his hair wet and tangled with snow, his face pale and his throat shining with purple and blue bruises. He shot George a long look then ran, crashing through the trees. George didn't know what the look meant; he was too tired and cold to read the expression on Draco's face. Was it a silent apology? Or a look leaden with hatred?<br>George hoped it wasn't pity.

Then Fred had come over, his face as pale as ice, his eyes hunted as he swept George up in a hug.  
>"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You deserve a thousand times better than Malfoy" he whispered hotly in George's ear. They stayed like that, huddled in the snow until the skies cleared and the watery sun burst through the clouds. "Come on mate" Fred said, slinging his arm around George's neck "Time to get you in front of the fire".<p>

The thought of that day still exhausted George and he was still furious at himself. He was bone-tired of thinking about it; thinking about all the mistakes he had made. It felt like his head was being crushed between two lead bars but there was a single ray of sunshine. Fred.  
>Fred was always around, making sure he ate, making sure he laughed.<br>Laughing felt strange at first; it felt like a lie.

But he felt better. It helped that Draco seemed to have disappeared from the corridors, from the Great Hall. And Fred had told no one; he was as good as his word. George could pretend it hadn't happened-he preferred it that way. Dwelling on it dragged him down like he was clutching a lead balloon.  
>George's other friends had noticed how withdrawn he was but they neglected to comment. George suspected Fred had something to do with that.<p>

However life went on like it had before. George walked to class, he ate lunch, he didn't do his homework.  
>And now he walked around the Quidditch pitch scowling in the fierce wind. Fred was in the common room with Angelina. He had watched George peel away from the group and disappear. He had understood that his twin needed to be alone.<br>A blanket of snow carpeted the pitch, crunching under boot like shards of glass. George buried his hands deep in his pockets and concentrated on each step.  
>One<br>Two  
>Three<br>He could see a figure detach itself from one of the goalposts, tall and shadowy. George squinted as it hurried towards him. What if it was Draco? His heart hammered painfully.  
>Then it slowed as the figure materialized into a Ravenclaw boy. Terry Boot. The wind ripped through his dark hair, his blue eyes bright and watery. His cheeks had flared pink, his jaw nestled in the high collar of his black jacket.<br>"Hello George" Terry said "How are you?"  
>"I'm...I'm great" George finished lamely. He was trying to regain his composure. The thought of Draco had sent his head spinning and despite everything he was overwhelmed with a mix of bitter disappointment and heady relief.<br>"George, I came out".  
>"Huh?" George's head snapped back up and he scrutinized the Ravenclaw, tilting his head to one side.<br>"Yeah, I came out to my friends and family. I think...you inspired me to do it. I wanted to say thanks..." Terry trailed off looking hard at the snow.  
>"Oh. That's brilliant. No problem" George said still staring at him. He waited for Terry to say something else but silence fell. George shrugged and began to walk away when Terry said "Wait!"<br>He turned slowly back around, confused. He didn't say anything. He waited for Terry.  
>The Ravenclaw turned red and ran his hand along his jaw.<br>"I thought...maybe, we could go out sometime...if you wanted to?"  
>George's brow furrowed. He hadn't expected that.<br>"Look Terry, I don't know if I..." then he stopped speaking. Why not?  
>Terry would be good for him. He was nice, funny and he liked him. Even if he wasn't all of those things he was openly gay. He knew who he was. Which was more than '<em>some people'<em>, George thought darkly.  
>Fred would be happy; George himself could learn to be happy. Maybe Terry would help him forget.<br>"Ok, yeah" he said. Terry grinned, leant forward and kissed his cheek. His lips were cold from the snow, a dusting of stubble lightly scraping George's skin.  
>"See you around" Terry said before walking away. George listened to his footsteps fade then he exhaled loudly and fell back into the snow. The sky spun before his head, a light dusky blue. He could feel a smile creeping across his lips. This was his chance to banish any thought of Draco from his head. He could concentrate on Terry; on the deep blue of his eyes, on his dark, unruly hair. He wouldn't think about the silver of Draco's eyes or the starkness of Draco's soft hair, he wouldn't think about the curve of Draco's throat or the...<br>George's smile faded.  
>Damn.<p> 


	7. Firewhisky

George looked into the mirror and took a deep breath. His reflection stared back, bright hair, dark eyes. He looped his ink blue tie around his hand and knotted it.  
>Tonight was a big night.<br>On the surface it wasn't important or special, just another party in the Room of Requirement. Another chance for the students to get drunk or high, to get off with each other.  
>For George it was crucial. He and Terry were going to the party together, as a couple. They had been on a few dates, drank a few bottles of beer, shared a few, nervous kisses. They were ready.<br>Terry was excited, he had said so himself. He couldn't wait to show his new boyfriend off.  
>George on the other hand, had knots in his stomach. He didn't care about what his friends thought, he didn't care about what his enemies thought. He cared about Draco's reaction.<br>He cared _too much_.  
>He took a deep breath and glanced out the window. Snow was falling again, in fat flakes. There was a Quidditch match in a week; he hoped it would all melt by then.<br>He turned back to the mirror, ran his hand through his hair and attempted a grin. It fell flat.  
>What was Draco going to think? Would he be angry? Hurt? Or worse, indifferent?<br>What if he didn't care at all?  
>What would George do then?<br>He would melt, just like snow. If Draco viewed him as nothing, George was going to feel like nothing.  
>He just had to think about Terry. That usually calmed him down. Terry was good and wholesome. He was healthy for George. If Terry was a cool glass of water, Draco would be a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky. Fiery and dangerous, <em>but yet<em> addictive.  
><em>No, think about Terry<em>, George berated himself.  
>Steady, blue eyes. A big, careless grin. Dark, floppy hair. Stubble lining his jaw.<br>That was Terry.  
>And George liked him.<br>A lot.

Terry was waiting for him by the portrait of the Fat Lady. George felt his lips curve into a smile. Terry looked so handsome in shirt and lopsided tie, his dark hair falling in his eyes. George reached out and straightened Terry's tie before smiling at the other boy.  
>"Ready?" he asked. He suddenly felt braver, stronger than he did before.<br>"Of course" Terry said, with a nervous grin. George carefully locked his hands around Terry's neck.  
>"Ok" he pressed his lips lightly against Terry's, "Let's go".<p>

The boys watched Fred and Angela glide into the party first, arm in arm. They were an attractive couple, smiling, laughing. George took a deep breath and looked at Terry. The Ravenclaw took his hand and together they walked into the party.  
>People looked up from their drinks, their smiles flickering as confused glances passed between them.<br>Terry grinned and said "Problem?"  
>The gathering of people laughed and the tautness in George's chest loosened.<br>"George! You never said!" Hermione beamed, her hand clutching Ron's shoulder.  
>"Well done, mate" Harry grinned, clutching the neck of a beer bottle.<br>"What a catch" Ginny approved, before kissing Michael Corner.  
>George managed to fix a smile on his face, but he was caught in a whirl of lipstick and congratulations, beer, laughter and teasing. For a second he was overwhelmed with uncertainty, twisting his head from side to side, looking for an escape. Colours lurched at him, clammy glass being pushed into his hand. George tried to wrap his fingers around the bottle, just as his eyes met someone else's. A silver pair that sliced right through him. George felt himself being drawn magnetically towards them but he was anchored by Terry's hand. The bottle slipped through his fingers and hit the ground, smashing into pieces.<br>There was a few screams, a smattering of mocking applause, laughter. George looked down at the glass powdering the floor, like glitter.  
>When he glanced back up Draco Malfoy was gone.<p>

The look Draco had given him. Pain, anger, jealousy, stunned disbelief all wrapped up in one, heart wrenching package. George felt like a traitor, he felt cold.  
>Terry had pushed him against the wall, laughing; his hands on George's ribs. George had watched Terry's eyes darken with want, had felt Terry kiss him, teeth tugging at his lower lip.<br>_It was sexy. Terry was sexy_.  
>But he felt nothing but muted panic inside. What had he done to Draco? Where had he gone? He looked reckless, he looked hunted.<br>Terry's lips had roamed to his earlobe, had made their fevered path down his neck. Terry's fingertips had slid to the small of his back; his lips had tasted of burnt sugar. But it wasn't enough.  
>George had pushed Terry back, gently at first then harder. Terry had stumbled, hurt and shock flashing across his face.<br>"I'm sorry" George had stuttered.  
>Terry had exhaled, turned; locked his hands behind his dark head. George had waited.<br>When Terry turned back around, his expression was rueful.  
>He ran his hand along his jaw, "It's ok. Slow. We'll take it slow."<br>"I don't deserve you. I'm going to the bar" George had pressed his lips to Terry's but the other boy was unresponsive. George had felt Terry's eyes hot on his back as he walked to the bar, swung himself up on a stool.  
>Now, as he sat swigging firewhisky he tried to control his emotions. It was awful, but he didn't care that he had hurt Terry. Irrationally, he felt that Terry had deserved it. Besides, he was too preoccupied with thoughts of Draco.<br>Of _that _look.  
>What had it meant? What did all of this mean? He took another gulp of firewhisky, savouring the burn. It was like artificial warmth for his insides, like a hug. As he drank everything began to slip in and out of focus, nothing could be defined. He took another swig.<br>Then another.  
>Then another.<br>Then another.  
>Then another.<br>Then ano-it was now empty.  
>And he was dying for a piss.<br>He stood up, catching himself on the corner of the bar. The room swung. He walked through the party. It looked like a battle field. Bodies writhed; flesh glittering under the mirror balls, heads were tipped back as drinks were thrown down throats, colourful tabs dissolved on tongues. George grinned at the sight of Angela and Fred stumbling, falling. Angela's hand was wrapped around Fred's neck, her raven hair falling across her face. George kept walking, averting his eyes from the sight of Ginny fiercely kissing Michael, his hands tugging through her long, red hair. He tripped and fell through the bathroom door.  
>The Room of Requirement did things right; marble and mirrors.<br>He unzipped his trousers and took a piss, looking at himself in the glass. His eyes were unfocused, his eyelids pink, a purple bruise forming on his throat; a testament to Terry's teeth. Sweat laced his neck, his hair dull and lank.  
>He washed his hands, watching the water splash on his skin like stars. The door opened and closed with a heavy thump. George looked up from the stars, into the mirror. A beautiful face was reflected next to his. George turned, the sound of rushing water drowning the heavy beating of his heart.<br>Draco's hand was curving his face, his eyes tormented. Draco opened his mouth.  
>George didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear Draco gagging on the truth.<br>"No" he whispered, slowly pressing his lips to Draco's. Anything to shut him up.  
>The other boy sighed. This was right, this was home. Suddenly the puzzle pieces clicked together. Draco's hands pulled George's face closer to his, deepening the kiss, burying their pain. George arched into Draco, his fingers pulling the collar away from Draco's neck. His lips fell down to Draco's throat, tasting cinnamon.<br>They were burning up like a fever. Draco pulled George's face up by the jaw, kissing fiercely. He pushed George against the sink. Water spilled over the basin onto the floor, tepid water lapping at their feet. It didn't matter.  
>They didn't feel it. Draco's teeth gently pulled at George's lips, breaking skin, drawing blood. He moaned; so sexy. George felt electric as all his worries crumbled into dust. He was living in the 'here and now', revelling in the hard, desperate kiss. They weren't mending anything. They weren't fixing it. They were only trying.<br>Draco buried his head into George's neck, kissing and biting. George fell against the wall, his hand striking the mirror.  
>The glass cracked and broke, crashing around them, glass cutting into their skin. They leapt back, looked down at the water, now ankle deep. Shards of glass swirled in it like grit. Droplets of blood fell from George's hand, opening like red flowers in the water.<br>George glanced sharply at Draco. The blonde blinked then caught George's injured hand with his own. It hurt.  
>"George, I'm sorry. I don't know what just happened".<br>"Don't worry about it. It won't happen again" George said stiffly, feeling his heart harden.  
>"But that's not what I want!"<br>"I'm with Terry" George realized. Guilt began to sour his stomach. How could he?  
>"And that kills me" Draco frowned, his brow furrowing, "I didn't know that I cared so much. I thought I could just ignore it. But George, I can't".<br>Draco looked up, beseeching "I want you".  
>He sounded so truthful George winced at the strength of the answering pain in his heart. He drew his arms across his chest "I deserve more than you Draco".<br>Draco's face fell, a shadow darkening his eyes "I know."  
>But now George couldn't bite his tongue. He <em>needed<em> to say this.  
>"You weren't there for me. You're ashamed of me but worse, you're ashamed of yourself. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to sneak around behind my brother's back. I don't want to feel like that ever again, Draco. You're not good for me. I couldn't breathe when you left me. You called me a faggot. You tore me apart".<br>Draco flinched. His pupils had swallowed up the silver of his eyes. George caught sight of Draco's collarbone. It looked so fragile, so vulnerable, he had to look away.  
>"I want you. No, I need you. I just need time!"<br>George shook his head, feeling tears cutting into the back of his eyes. Was this what he wanted? To feel suppressed, to feel anxious; like he was constantly walking on eggshells?  
>He stared at Draco, trying to work out what he was thinking.<br>It was impossible. The boy was impossible to work out. He was too complex, too damaged.  
>If he gave Draco time to come out, if he snuck around with Draco once again, Malfoy's word was law. George would effectively be a puppet.<br>He didn't want that. He wanted to be near Draco, so bad it almost hurt not to touch him. But he didn't want to be helpless, tied to his master.  
>If he didn't leave this behind, he'd never be able to. He'd be trapped in the kind of relationship he hated; a fake one. It would be all <em>wrong.<br>_He was starting something true with Terry. Something unsullied and clean. A fresh start, a new page, another chapter.  
>He had to leave <em>now<em> before he couldn't. He began to walk out.  
>"No, wait!" Draco grabbed out at him, his fingers scrabbling at George's hand, his eyes burning with pain, filling with desperate tears.<br>George shook him off and propelled himself out of the room.  
>Out of harm's way.<br>Sober.


	8. Break down, Break up

"Quidditch match tomorrow, Georgie" Fred said loudly, in the early hours of the morning. George heard him throw something and felt the assailing object clip his ear.  
>"Bugger off" he mumbled, pulling the pillow over his head. Despite himself, he was smiling. His lips were sore from kissing Terry the day before. They had played Quidditch with Fred, Harry, Ron and Angelina, before sloping off together. Terry had knocked him back into a snow drift, where they lay intertwined, kissing. George had to crane his neck to reach Terry's lips. His boyfriend's eyes were blazing blue in the snow, framed with long, dark lashes. George had been caught up in the moment; shivery, heart beating.<br>Provided that George wasn't dwelling on the past, he was content. Things were great with Fred (as always), Terry made him happy and Draco Malfoy seemed to have disappeared. He was taking the rejection better than George had hoped. Even so, he felt a slight sting of disappointment.  
>Still, he thought bracingly, life was treating him well.<br>If only he didn't have to get up so bloody early for Quidditch practise.  
>Groaning, he fell out of bed.<p>

Draco lay in his bed, still.  
>He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat and he couldn't stop the same thoughts running around in his head. He couldn't stop replaying what had happened in the bathroom.<br>The way that George's eyes had glittered with the truth. The way that George's shoulders had stiffened with hurt. He had kissed Draco, then drew back, disgusted.  
>Did George really hate him that much?<br>Of course he did; Draco hated himself so much, it hurt to breathe. Why did he always mess things up?  
>He flung his arm over his eyes, trying to bury the memories. But they kept resurfacing. George's heart breaking smile; the dark intensity of his eyes; his bright, dishevelled hair.<br>But now there was Terry.  
>Draco took a hateful breath, his lungs shaking. That dark haired bastard had stolen George's heart. He had taken away the person who meant the most to Draco. And yet, how things panned out was not Terry's fault. He had not orchestrated this mess. He had not made Draco a bad person.<br>No, Draco already had a rotten core. He was twisted and dark; he had deliberately played with George's emotions like a puppeteer.  
>He had taken all of his fear and shame and channelled it. He had hurt George. How could he expect George to forgive him, when he couldn't forgive himself?<br>He tried not to think about kissing George. He didn't want to remember the fire that had sparked between them, the feel of George's sinewy arms. When the mirror smashed around them last week, Draco had foolishly thought that it was part of the kiss; the tinkle of glass, the blinding light, the stinging, and the pain. Draco had got some of George's blood on his hand. He had injured George once again. The only way he could protect him was to stay away.  
>But there was a bloody Quidditch match tomorrow. Could he bring himself to play?<br>If he did play, he hoped one of George's well aimed bludgers would knock him out of the sky and shatter his ribs. It was only fair. 

George kissed Terry carefully on the cheek. Terry had just come out of Transfiguration class and George had trekked up from Herbology to meet him.  
>Terry shifted his book bag to his other arm, whilst George yawned. Getting up early to practise Quidditch had really taken its toll on him. The skin under his eyes was puffy and purple, his face drained.<br>Terry took his hand and they began to walk down to the Great Hall. Terry was talking about exams, and George was trying to listen. He was content just listening to the low lull of his boyfriend's voice.  
>When they reached the Entrance Hall, they faltered as the doors opened, and Draco Malfoy strode in.<br>He had been out in the snow. Behind him, a blizzard raged, the wind blasted into the Entrance Hall and shook the picture frames. Draco kicked the door shut and looked straight into George's eyes.  
>George had never seen Draco look worse. He was sodden; his hair had gone a dark gold, his eyes a dull flint, his face deadened. The bruises under Draco's eyes were the result of at least a week of no sleep, his skin bloodless and chalky. Was it George's imagination or was Draco a lot thinner?<br>His collarbone seemed to leap out, gathering blue shadows and was that his ribs jutting out from under his thin shirt?  
>George tried to swallow but found that he couldn't. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Draco who was shivering. George tried to move but he was rooted to the spot. There was an emptiness in Draco's eyes; had he given up?<br>The thought of Draco abandoning George (even after George had rejected him) hurt...a lot.  
>"Ouch" Terry said and startled, George tore his eyes away from Draco. He was crushing Terry's hand in his own, tendons rising from his arm.<br>"Sorry" he croaked "Can we...can we get away from here? Now".  
>And for the second time, he left Draco standing there forlorn.<p>

He dragged Terry into a broom cupboard. As soon as the door closed shut behind them, George could breathe again. The threat of tears stung his eyes and with a shuddering breath he wiped them fiercely away. He leant his head against the door and swore.  
>Why did Draco have to make this hard for him? Why did he always mess things up for George?<br>"Are...are you ok?" Terry's voice broke uncertainly in the silence. A rush of tenderness enveloped George and he grabbed Terry's face. His thumbs stroked Terry's stubbly jaw. He could taste salt on his lips. A few tears had escaped after all.  
>"I'm sorry. I just panicked. I don't know what happened. Sorry" he pulled Terry's face closer, until their lips were brushing; just the promise of a kiss.<br>But then Terry drew back, his eyes dark and unreadable.  
>Confused George tripped forwards, "Terry?"<br>"No, I...I know what happened" Terry said quietly, sadness leaching into his tone.  
>"What? How?" George's mind flailed and suffocated. Did Terry know about Draco? Did he know about their past?<br>"It's obvious, George. You don't like me as much as I like you. I care about you so much George, but I can tell you don't feel the same way".  
>"I do"-<br>"Ssh, I know you care about me a little. But George I'll always want more from you. More than you can give. I don't want to force you. I don't want to hurt you" Terry's fingertips brushed George's cheek. George felt himself curve into Terry's touch. Inside, he was stunned. He didn't know what to say. Terry was breaking up with him, but for all the right reasons. He knew George better than he knew himself.  
>"I do really like you Terry. It's just"-<br>"It's ok".  
>"How'd you"-<br>"You're distant George. And when I try to get too close, you shut down. You're unresponsive. I'm not going to change you into someone you're not. Just be yourself. And you don't really want to be with me, George. I'm not going to torment myself...or keep you as my own".  
>Terry pressed his forehead against George's.<br>George's lips yearned to touch Terry's despite everything. He knew this was the right thing to do, yet he still felt hollow inside.  
>"You're perfect, Terry" he whispered hoarsely into the darkness.<br>"Just not for you. I know" was the saddened reply. Terry withdrew, the door opened and closed and George was left in the dark. The place where Terry had been was replaced with cold air and George shivered, wrapping his arms around his ribcage.  
>Bitterness flooded the small tear in his heart.<br>Once again Draco Malfoy had inflicted pain upon George.  
>He shoved his way out of the cupboard and came face to face with the Slytherin himself. Draco was standing alone in the middle of the corridor. He had paled, his eyes darkening with barely suppressed rage. This show of jealousy made it clear that Draco hadn't given up on him. Not yet.<br>So he had noticed that Terry and George were in the cupboard together?  
>Good, George thought hotly. Let him think the worst.<br>He shoved past Draco, their shoulders colliding. Draco stumbled and George kept walking, furious.  
>He was furious that just brushing past Draco Malfoy still made his heart beat faster.<p>

**A/N: I wanted to look at Draco's perspective here to prove that he hasn't given up on his feelings for George.  
>I genuinely like Terry but I <strong>_**had**_** to end it...I have a craving for Draco/George and I plan to satisfy it in the next chapter!  
>Updates shall be much more regular now that my life is slightly less hectic!<strong>


	9. Delirious

Draco had wanted to pin George to the wall; trap him with his hips. He had wanted to punch him; he had wanted to _kiss _him. The sight of Terry leaving the cupboard looking preoccupied followed by George had caused Draco's stomach to twist with jealousy and hurt. What had they been doing in there? Enclosed by darkness, pressed together...  
>Draco was torn by conflicting desires. He didn't know whether he should beat Terry up or take George into the broom cupboard himself.<br>He did nothing instead.  
>Just looking at George; all angles and planes, wiry muscles and dark, peaty eyes had frozen Draco to the spot. He looked troubled; what had Terry done to him? Had George not liked it?<br>Draco had bristled feeling another wave of hatred sweep over him. He opened his mouth but the look on George's face made him falter.  
>George was seething. His fists were clenched; his breath was catching in his chest-a visible sign that he was upset. So many feverish words were passed between them <em>unsaid.<br>_George was blaming Draco for the way that things had turned out. He was angry with Draco and it was _unforgivable_.  
>George's stubborn, expressive eyes allowed Draco to read him like a book. And Draco didn't like this particular story.<br>George shoved past him so hard he could feel his shoulder begin to bruise. He stood there, unable to move, head bowed. His eyes were beginning to sting. This was ridiculous. Malfoy's don't cry.  
>But Draco didn't know what to do anymore. <em>He had tried<em>.  
><em>He had tried<em> so goddamn hard.  
>He had told George exactly how he felt in the bathroom and yet nothing had changed. In fact it was now worse. Draco had wanted to keep fighting, he had wanted to heal George and make things right. But in all honesty it was too late. This was Draco Malfoy's life and in his life nothing ever went to plan. He never did anything right.<p>

George sat on the changing room bench, head bowed, hands locked together. He was dressed in his Quidditch robes, his stomach churning. It wasn't pre-match nerves. It was this whole debacle with Draco. It was all the emotions he felt crashing together into one big cauldron of fear, pity, fury, bitterness and something stronger that pulsed through his blood; was it love?  
>The very word made George flinch. He shouldn't think like that. Not ever.<br>Because nothing could ever, ever happen between him and Draco. That chapter of his life was over, that ship had sailed; it didn't matter what analogy he used. It was done.  
>He couldn't allow himself to even consider the possibility that he loved Draco. He had spent a sleepless night trying not to think about him.<br>And now he had to concentrate on winning the Quidditch match against Slytherin, of making his team and his brother proud. He also hoped wildly that Draco wasn't playing.  
>The Gods were not in his favour. When the team marched out onto the pitch-blanketed by a glittering crust of snow, Draco Malfoy was already there clutching his broomstick. He looked good in green, George's heart lurched and he mounted his own broomstick, looking up at the sky. The clouds had gathered; grey and threatening. At the shrill blow of Madame Hooch's whistle George kicked off hard, spraying clumps of grass behind him. He gripped his beater's bat, scanning the Quidditch pitch. He could feel a pair of eyes on him and he didn't have to look to know they were Draco's. He swerved and chased a bludger away from Angelina.<br>The cold was biting through his gloves, snow beginning to swirl down in fat, wet flakes.  
><em>Hurry up Harry. Catch the damn snitch<em>, George thought desperately. Not only was it cold, he felt vulnerable out here in the snow, unable to see anything but white, knowing that Draco could be inches away.  
>The snow thickened into a blizzard, sticking his hair together in frozen clumps. He wanted nothing more than to sit by the fire and thaw out. A green clad player shot past him, knocking him off balance. He grasped the broomstick desperately, the beater bat slipping from his fingers. He heard it thump on the frozen ground below.<br>_Bloody hell._  
>Without his bat he was useless. The falling snow had lessened slightly and George could make out the silhouette of his bat on the ground. He prepared to swoop down, angling his broomstick. However he heard the aggressive sound of a bludger approaching and his heart hammered against his ribcage as he looked up at the whirling ball. It was going to smack straight into his chest and there wasn't time to move.<br>A flash of green startled him and he almost fell off his broom. It took a few stunned milliseconds for George to register what had just happened. Finally it all fell into place. Draco Malfoy had leapt in front of him and the bludger had smashed into his chest instead of George's.  
>And now Draco was streaking towards the ground, unconscious. George dived after him without a second's thought, urging his broom faster. He grabbed Draco with both hands, yanking him up onto his own broomstick. He held him awkwardly, arm flung across Draco's chest. He wasn't sure if he could feel Draco's heartbeat as he stumbled to the ground. He let the other boy slither onto the pitch, falling to his knees. He scrabbled at Draco's wrist, trying to feel for a pulse, panic beginning to rise up within him.<br>Snape stormed up and he was pushed back. He fell onto the snow, the cold seeping through his cloak. Draco was pale and dishevelled, bruises forming under his eyes, his lips had fallen apart. He looked like he was asleep.  
>George swore. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the cold form of Draco. He stood shivering as a deadened roar rose up around him. Harry must have caught the snitch. Something scarlet plummeted into him, arms wrapping around his torso. It was Fred and the rest of the Gryffindor team screaming in delight. George craned his neck to stare over Alicia's shoulder at Draco.<br>Was he beginning to stir?  
>Hope burned in his chest as Fred knocked him to the ground laughing. He was so elated he hadn't noticed how ashen George's face was. George fought free, struggling to stand up, snow sticking to his hair, coming face to face with Draco Malfoy.<br>Well, Draco was standing a few feet away. His eyes were molten silver; his hair was damp and dark gold, curling around his ears. George dragged his eyes away unwillingly. Fred had stilled by George's elbow, probably fixing Draco with a hostile glare.  
>"George, look at me," a broken voice whispered. George's eyes met Draco's surprised. Grey eyes locked on brown. George tried to say something, to move away but he couldn't. Even the feel of Fred next to him melted away. All there was left in the world was white and silver and gold; Draco Malfoy and the words coming out of his mouth.<br>"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be...I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you," he said quietly.  
>"No. No, you are good enough," George stammered. Draco had jumped in front of that bludger <em>for him<em>. He had sacrificed himself. He was more than good enough. Why had it taken George _so long_ to realize it? Draco had changed. But before George could muster up the courage to say so, Draco began to speak.  
>"If you want me to leave you alone forever just say. Because if that's what you want-what you really want, then I will never bother you again," Draco said, his eyes shining with tears.<br>George couldn't think of anything worse. Last week all he had wanted was Draco's disappearance. Now, the idea terrified him. Heart pounding, he shook his head jerkily.  
>"No," he croaked "I don't want that".<br>For a moment Draco looked stunned. Snow stuck to his cheeks as he said "Really?"  
>A smile was slowly beginning to split his face. George could only nod.<br>As Draco took a step forward, George gasped out "Wait!"  
>The smile slid off Draco's face and he paused, looking vulnerable.<br>"I need to know how this is going to work...I need to know if it's going to be different from last time," George said. He was aware that Fred was still standing next to him, glowering with disapproval. He was also aware that the Slytherin Quidditch team had flanked Draco, confused and angry. Draco swallowed; all eyes on him.  
>"I..." he glanced at Flint and his mouth snapped shut again. George went cold inside. He began to turn away when Draco yelped "I love you!"<br>"What?" George asked, turning back around, beginning to grin.  
>"I love you," Draco said, his eyes bright and hard, and true.<br>"Sorry?" George's grin widened, his stomach somersaulting.  
>"I SAID I LOVE YOU," Draco Malfoy yelled, striding across to George who had his arms open and waiting.<br>Draco fiercely pressed his lips to George's and the old fire returned, renewed. George's arms wrapped around Draco, his hands trembling as he kept the other boy close. He tasted new and yet familiar. His heart was pounding so fast his ribs ached. He felt Draco's lips brushing his jaw; he felt his eyelashes brushing his cheekbone. They didn't want to draw apart. Now that the blood rushing in George's ears had quietened, he was aware of the deathly silence that had befallen the stadium. He knew Draco was too. He had stilled. George drew in a shaky breath and whispered "I love you too."  
>He felt Draco smile against his face and briefly he pressed his lips to George's before stepping back.<br>A blast of cold hit George followed by emptiness. The last kiss still lingered on George's lips.  
>Draco turned to the Slytherin team who were spitting with fury and disgust.<br>"You lost us the match! For some pretty boy _Gryffindor_?!" was all that Flint could manage.  
>"I'm not sorry," Draco replied.<br>George took his hand.  
>The stadium was a ring of blistering stares. George felt derision bubble up within him and he began to laugh with relief. Draco turned to him shocked. George just laughed harder until Draco's mouth began to twist up in a reluctant grin. He gave George a rough kiss on the cheek and they sloped off.<p>

_Delirious. _


End file.
